


The up and downs of an eidetic memory

by S6a



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Challenges, Christmas Fluff, College, DEEP SHIT, Developing Friendships, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Headaches & Migraines, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Own book club sort of, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Texting, Time Skips, Valentine's Day, many quotes, nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27938657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S6a/pseuds/S6a
Summary: "I know it's the cheese, not the Pizza, and it's mean long-term... Anyway isn't it a better way to die than through some violent act? If I die because of Pizza I would die happy because the pizza was delicious, I enjoyed myself and that's all that matters."Spencer opens his mouth then closed it, looking like a fish, "Y-You probably right."Spencer and Mike have both an eidetic memory but this is not the reason they bond.Both are there for each other when they need it the most.Season 6/7 (Criminal minds, Prentiss "dead" include), Season 1&2( Suits)New Update: 20.1.2021
Relationships: Spencer Reid & Mike Ross
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	The up and downs of an eidetic memory

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, since the summer I have the idea of Mike & Spencer in my mind. They would fit well together and honestly both need a friend like them.  
> I change the middle of the story a little.

**1\. Columbia College Library, 2004:**

Mike Ross sets off to find pre-law books, leaving his things unguarded.

When Mike finally emerges from the stacks, two books in hand, he’s not surprised to find someone else has claimed the other end of his table.

A college kid Mike assumed because the boy looks young and they were in the college liberty. Maybe a couple of years older than him but he couldn't be sure because it was his first year of college.

The tip of the boy's tongue is just peeking out between his lips as he concentrates, his glasses slide down towards the tip of his nose. His brown hair was slick back and all in all he looks rather cute.

Mike clears his throat as he approaches the table.

The kid startles and lookup. “Is… did I steal your spot?”, a blush appeared on his cheeks and he took his glass off to sit them down on the table.

Mike shrugs, striding forward to his chair. “Not my library," he answers casually.

The man looks flushed, looking back down at his book. They’re not quite opposite each other, but the table’s not that big either, and with all the books, they’re essentially taking up all the space. Well, the guy takes all the space; Mike just has two books. He doesn't need a notepad once he read something and understands it, he never forgot, so it's unnecessary to take notes. He only wishes he could mark the book.

He opens the first book and begins to read. The other man doesn't make a sound. Fifteen minutes and almost two books later, he decides to take a little break. So he takes a sip of his water bottle and he let his gaze wander to the other end of his table.

Spencer’s bent over two open books. He’s also wearing a knit turtleneck, the sleeves absent-mindedly pulled down over his palms. He’s working the material between his thumbs and forefingers as his eyes scan the page. Then he looks back to one book and twenty seconds later he turned eight pages. Huh, interesting.

"You are not in college anymore aren't you?", Mike breaks the silence. He is very interested in the other man.

Spencer looks up and raises his eyebrow at Mike.  
"Not really- I- I mean not full-time..., what gives it's away?"

"Well, for the one you look more like the teacher's assistance," Mike teased him with a grin.  
Spencer seemed surprised for a second and then laughed.  
"That's what I think too, no kidding." 

"You know self-knowledge is the first step towards improvement...", Mike replies with a cheeky grin

Spencer opens his mouth then closes it again. It is Mike`s turn to quirk his eyebrow at the other man.

"And the second point?", Spencer finally ask in interest, learn a bit forward in his chair.

" _All great and precious things are lonely_ ," Mike quote with a wink, one line of Spencer's book. "I doubt anyone in college would read East of Eden by John Steinbeck except you'd to study English literature," Mike adds.

"Actually, I studied English literature but how did you know I read that?", Spencer seems taken aback.

"When I came back to my seat I caught a few words on the page," Mike answered casually.  
"When did you read that?", Spencer asks curiously.   
"A few years ago," Mike answered shortly and gather his things.  
"Seemed like the book truly helps," he hold up one of the books for Spencer to read the front cover as he stands up. 

"I can highly recommend some books in that genre if you have time," Spencer offered.  
"That would be nice....?," Mike raised his eyebrow and sits back in his chair.

"Spencer," the guy says.

Mike nods in greeting "I'm Mike."

  
**2\. 2007:**

"It's gonna be fine. You'll see."

"I'm not sure. I fuck up, they drop me out of college. I have nothing and... ", Mike breaks up as a sob escapes his throat and keeps his gaze at the floor.

"An inventor fails 999 times, and if he succeeds once, he’s in. He treats his failures simply as practice shots," Spencer quotes. "I am not the best at giving comfort”, he adds as he pats Mike's arm awkwardly.

They sit under a tree, shoulders to shoulders in front of Columbia College. Spencer has given a lecture there and when he wanted to leave, he saw a blonde boy under a tree crying and recognized him. Sometimes you just need to be heard by someone. If you have nobody then one day you can't handle the pain alone anymore. 

"By Charles F. Kettering", Mike's lips turn up slightly and it’s not a laugh, not even a full smile, but that one’s honest.

Spencer nods appreciatively.

“Life's funny. You have to find a way to keep going, to keep laughing, even after you realize that none of your dreams will come true. When you realize that, there's still so much of a life to get through," Mike quotes a book that he thinks fits with his situation. He still has his Grandmother and maybe a new friend. Maybe he doesn't have to cling to Travor.

"By Claire Messud, The Woman Upstairs", Spencer finishes and starts another quote. 

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it."

"By Maya Angelou", Mike says with a nod. His face is still wet from tears.

From there the game continues. They spent an hour quoting books and films about failed dreams. Neither asks the other how they know so many quotes.

**Airport (three years later) in Boston:**

"Wanna get a coffee?”

“I- What?” Spencer turns on his heel.

Mike nods up to the Starbucks Coffee Shop that was next to the exit of the airport. “We pass a Starbucks on the way here.”

“A Starbucks,” Spencer echoes dumbfounded.

Mike smiles faintly, “Is that a no?”

“Is that a no-?” Spencer shakes himself mentally and says carefully, “I... would not be opposed to such a proposition.”

He hears Mike laugh under his breath, “Then come."

Spencer follows him through the crowd of travelers, completely off balance. He finally manages to ask, “What's so amusing?”

Mike glances over at him, a smile playing on his mouth, “Just, you.”

Spencer's brow furrows, “I...?”

“Yup,” Mike says, shrugging his hands into his pockets.

Spencer huffs faintly, “You forgot to mention good-looking."

“That too, princess!” Mike laughs and elbows Spencer in the side. Spencer flinches first then compared himself and glares at Mike halfheartedly.

At Starbucks, they reach the front of the line, and Mike steps forward but the young barista’s attention instantly snapped across to Spencer.

"What can I get you?”, The barista grins, lifting one of the takeaway cups and hovering his pen over the cardboard material as he awaited confirmation.

"One coffee with six sugar and a donut with chocolate frosting and sprinkles," Spencer orders. "And the name?", the barrister asks. "Just Doctor."

“And your friend here?” A cheeky smirk curls across his lips. His eyes barely pause on Mike before he raises his eyebrows suggestively at the taller customer.

"Just a coffee will be great… Thanks.” Mike interrupts feeling somehow out of the loop.

They never plan to meet. Hell, he doesn't even have Spencer's number. It just was their third meeting, _so get your act together, Mike. You didn't tell him everything either._

The guy prepares their orders and scribbles their names on the cups.

They take a seat in a booth at the end of the room after they get their drinks. 

It’s quite awkward, the two of them sitting face to face because they know practically nothing about each other. So Mike wants to change it.

"What are your hobbies?”, Mike finally asks just as Spencer thinks one of them really needs to say something now. 

“Hobbies?” Spencer says blankly.

Mike signs, "Alright, then what would you say your passions are?”

“Serial killers,” Spencer says after a moment of deliberation, then seems to realize what he’s said and looks apologetic.

Mike gives him a reassuring smile, "Figure it must be the job description?"

The older man nods embarrass. "Yeah, Dr. Spencer Reid, working for the FBI." 

Mike just nods. Clearly lost in thoughts. 

But then Mike points to a couple on a table.

"Do you think they are on a date?", he wants to know. 

A new game is created.

They make up funny stories about the customers - what they'd drink at the moment, what they'd eat for breakfast that morning, how the relationship is with their opponent. It is profiling on Spencer's part.

"He leans slightly over the table to reduce the distance between her a little. That means he's seeking proximity. Look now she moves forward a little, she signaled that she understand his gestures."

"He is gonna be lucky at the end of their date," Mike jokes.

Mike is hilarious, Spencer learns more, and he feels like his cheeks are going to crack from smiling so wide.

\------

_Messages between Mike & Spencer _

10.9.2010 10 am, Mike Ross:

_Hi, I´m sorry I didn't write to you. I was busy with my new job. Do you know how to fill out the subpoena form?"  
_

10.9.2010, 12:15 am, Spencer Reid:

_Hi, Mike. Of course, I know. Do you have time for a phone call? I`m at work but I`m on my lunch break._

Incoming call (12:16 am)

 _"First, fill in the name of the case as shown on the notice of hearing you received._  
_If you want the person to appear-" Spencer pauses then asks;_ _"Attend or produce?"_

The line is quiet for a moment, Spencer could hear the shifting of papers.

_"Wow, you really want to help, thank you. And the answer is produced," Mike speaks in awe._

_Spencer chuckles, "No problem, I like to help."_  
_"You are commanded to produce, and describe what you want to be brought. Fill in a date and location only if it is other than for the hearing itself._  
_The Special note means: To obtain this kind of subpoena, you must show a reasonable need for the_  
_materials sought. Attach a statement along with the subpoena for the administrative law judge to review....", Spencer explains all steps._

**_"Wow again! Thank you so much! You saved my ass. You are more helpful than my coworkers. Gotta go, I text you soon or maybe we see each other again, thank you, again!"_ **

Before Spencer could speak, Mike hung up.

**30.10.2010**

Today was a hard day for the BAU. The team still sees Hotch recovering from Foyet's attack and Spencer notices a disturbing change in Hotch's behavior.

That makes him realize that he can't have contact with Mike. What if he would get attracted like Hotch´s family?

He changes his number, so Mike could not call him. He can't help feeling like a dog who abandons his puppy. But it was for the best. 

**31.03.2011, 8:15pm,**

Mike opens the door and sees the guy he only saw three times in his life.  
He wants to ask him how the fuck he knows where he lives but then as he really looks at the other man's face, the question is forgotten. He takes two steps and pulling him by his arm inside, closing the door, and then yanks him into a tight hug.

He really doesn't need to be an expert at reading body languages to see that Spencer needs a hug (although he has to admit that since his lesson with Spencer he got much better at reading people).

Spencer is stiff against him, fighting himself, no doubt, not wanting to give in. Mike strokes a hand down his back, and he feels the first tremors as Spencer lets go, as the sobs tear through his body, and then he's clinging to Mike, face pressed into Mike's neck.  
Mike then knows that whatever happened must be really bad. From the three meetings, he learned that Spencer hates to make body contact with strangers.

"It's okay, Spencer," Mike uses his free hand to card his fingers through Spencer's hair. "Whatever happened it's going to be ok."

Spencer sucks in a breath, seems to want to say something, but he can't manage the words, and Mike pulls him back in, continues to hold him through it.  
Mike really hopes that no one died but his gut tells him otherwise.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, and his own voice is close to breaking, as is his heart, and his eyes weren't exactly dry. "I'm sorry for your lost."  
That's all he can offer.

When Spencer stops sobbing, he led him to his sofa.

He pulls the white afghan he keeps on the sofa around Spencer's shoulders.

"I'm right back. I just go to the kitchen to make something to drink, you can see me there, the place isn't that big.", Mike informed him.  
Spencer nods, tears still fall from his eyes.

"I made you warm milk with honey,” Mike says a few minutes later, handing him a mug before plopping himself down on the same sofa. His place isn't big. Spencer accepts the mug with a grateful smile and takes a sip. They are both quiet for minutes. Mike states, “We don’t have to talk about it tonight if you don’t want to".

Spencer pulls the afghan a little closer around his shoulders, takes a long sip of the milk, and stares at Mike in mild amazement for a few moments. Then the look is gone, as the man thinks about everything.

"I did not even get the chance to say goodbye, to her," he says, voice rasping. "Mike, look that is exactly why I didn't hold contact. People around me die and it'd hurt so much if I would be the reason for it. I can't. It hurts so much. So much," Spencer rambles in a panic whisper.

Mike stands up and sits quickly next to Spencer and rubs his back over the blanket. "Hey, it's not your fault." He pauses needing time to clear his throat so his voice wouldn't fail. "And for not holding contact. I forgive you but you have to promise me to not break contact again. I'm your friend and I can take care of myself. If a crazy bastard goes after me because he wants to hurt you, get in your head... I would never blame you, ok? I would never blame you. Do you understand?" Mike uses his free hand to card his fingers through Spencer's hair.

Spencer's breathing slows down, still shaky as he seems to get himself under control, and nods.

"I know it hurts, and I don't gonna lie weeks, months, years later it still will hurt sometimes. Some day more than others. It’s hard, it’s unimaginable. But the pain gets quieter- it moves towards the background. Hopefully one day you can look back and remember more of the good things than the bad. But your will to learn to live with this. I don't know what happened or who died but I'm sure you tried everything you could to save her. For now, you don't have to grieve alone.  
I'm going to be here, Spencer, and I'll be there every second, okay, it might be on the other end of a phone line, though."

Spencer lifts his head, leans back to the couch, and clears his throat. He runs a hand over his eyes and takes a deep breath. His gaze is somewhere over Mike's shoulder when he says in a rough voice "You really want to have contact with me even you don't know what happened and how I know your address?"

Mike smiles and shooks his head. He squeezes Spencer's shoulder lightly. "You can tell me whatever you want when you are ready."

Spencer shifts away from the touch.

For a couple of seconds, neither said anything. Finally, Spencer opens his mouth. " I... thank you, for anything, but I don't want to talk now,” he says, his voice emotionless but not unfriendly. He still isn’t really looking at Mike’s face, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

A surprised look is on Mike’s face.

"Ok, no problem. Let's find something comfy to wear and then we can watch TV."  
Spencer wipes his tears away and nods.

Mike goes to his bedroom, searching for sweatpants and a hoodie. When he finds the clothes he goes back to Spencer in the living room who stares at the wall opposite him.

Mike knows Spencer is far from fine and he tries to be strong for him but the moment he is alone he snaps back into his thoughts.

"In moments like this I hate my eidetic memory", Spencer confesses in a monotone voice.  
Mike gasps, surprise that Spencer brought this up. Boy, can he related.

He is sure no one understands Spencer better than him right now.   
They didn't talk about their eidetic memories but Mike was sure that both were aware that the other had the same ability or suspect it at least. They never pry, never probe. Mike tried once when he asks him about his hobby but quickly realize that he shouldn't ask. It is better to wait until the other is ready to share details freely.

Realizing that his friend is not in the condition to change himself, Mike decides to help his friend, so he kneels in front of Spencer and changes from a shirt into his hoodie, and takes his blank pants off to change into the comfy sweatpants.

Meanwhile, he decides to talk and let things out he never tells someone because he'd know he wouldn't get the empathy. 

Everyone tells me how lucky or blessed I'm to have a mind like this-", Mike chuckled dry sat next to Spencer on the couch, who offered his hand for comfort. "Well, expect some kids at school. They were jealous of me and told me that I was a freak."

"Tell me about,” Spencer mumbles under his breath, head down.

The blond has heard Spencer so he claps their hands together and Spencer squeezes his hand right away.

"They bullied me too, you know," Spencer whispers, he seems upset by Mike's admission, his pretty mouth turned down with displeasure, an ugly frown deepening quickly on his face. “I was always teased in elementary and middle school for being smart. Other kids don't like it when you're smarter than them.”

There’s thunder in his eyes but the anger passes in a flash and is replaced by sadness.

Mike feels guilty. He has intended to cheer him up and share experiences, so they could bond and _not_ excite old wounds. 

He shifts and wraps his arms around Spencer, presses his hands into Spencer's back, and held the other man to his chest. Spencer sobs once and his arms slither up and around Mike, too, his fingers curling in the material of Mike's shirt.

They stay like that for a while, holding each other, until both of Mike's legs are asleep under Spencer's. Spencer lifts his head, and Mike can feel that his shirt is wet where Spencer's face was pressed up against it. With red eyes, Spencer smiles at him and Mike smiles back, rubbing his hands up and down Spencer's back.

"Shall I continue with the story or would you rather quoting books with me?", Mike insinuates to the time when Spencer comforts him by quoting books about failure. It was nice, it helped him to see the things that matter.

"Do you have a quote for me?", Spencer asks with huge puppy eyes.

Mike can't help, he pinches his cheek. "You are as cute as a puppy," he cooed with a smirk because it's ironic. Normally Mike is called a puppy.

Spencer laughs and slaps his hand away. "You know, I felt like a dog mother who abandons her puppy when I cut the contact with you," he confesses. 

Mike feigns a hurt gasp and he pushes Spencer away. He sits up and Spencer mimics him. 

"I'm no one's puppy," he replies and slaps Spencer on the shoulder. Mike is glad that the atmosphere has changed and they can tease each other. Although Mike still holds back. He doesn't know how far he can teases. 

"Well, that's good. So that means I don't have to worry that you lick my face in excitement or make a mess on the carpet," Spencer wise off. 

Mike’s eyes widen and his mouth open in shock, amusement wrote all over his face.

"Oh god, you sound like someone I know," he groans for good measure.

In mock surrender Spencer holds his hand up, "You start it," he smiles big.

"I didn't deserve it all I said was that you are cute and look at how you repaid me!", Mike plays outraged.

"Well, I didn't get my quote," Spencer defends himself.

Mike rolls his eyes, "Ok here we go: And when you're not a little boy anymore when the world has taught you how to be a man... Then you'll still make mistakes. But your family, and all those good friends you've made along the way, will help you. And even though you'll think the world has gone out of its way to teach you all the tough lessons, you'll realize that it's the same world that's given you your family and those friends, you'll come to believe that no matter what happens, somehow the world will protect you, too."

"Boy Meets World. Now I get it," Spencer ends the quote.

"You saw that show?", Mike asks in shock. Spencer shrugs, "Yes when I was in college I had time."

The blond chuckles, "I thought you are more 1920s smart. Playing chess, listing to jazz music, and reading books in your free time. A technophobe through and through."

Spencer smiles ruefully, “You summarise my life pretty good. Expect you forgot drinking sweet Coffee and spending time in bookstores."  
Mike rolls his eyes again, "I didn't forget it! I just thought that was implied in my description."

Then he yawns and looks at the clock that hangs in the kitchen. "Do you feel like sleeping? You can sleep on this sofa. But if you worried about nightmares...", he bites his bottom lip.

"Maybe we can share the bed, so you know....," Mike runs his hand through his hair, nervously curling his fingers into a loose fist at his side. "You probably know the studies on better sleeping...".

Spencer blinks at him and his jaw drops a little. “You’re sure?” I'm mean... you have done enough for me already. It's your bed and I don't want to impose more," he begins to chew on his thumbnail.

Mike stands up, "Come on, I wouldn't offer if I would mind. Furthermore, I never share a bed with someone just for comfort. So it would be a nice change. Before you disagree, it's my turn for giving comfort, anyway. And I think I do a good job, so far," he yawns again.

Spencer hesitates for a second but then follows Mike to his bedroom. Mike goes to the bathroom and does his routine then he lays down in the bed where Spencer lays uncomfortable.

"Now the adrenaline is gone, it feels weird being here?", Mike asks leaving as much space as the bed allows. 

"I don't have friends aside from my coworkers at work. It doesn't feel weird being here. It was like my unconscious demands coming to you and not to my coworker. I don't know why but it feels right being here," Spencer finishes.

“I'm glad you are here. Unfortunately, I have work tomorrow and I doubt that my boss would give me time off if I'd call in the morning. Hell, it's a miracle I'm here at this time. Normal I put night shift after night shift,” Mike slides his hands behind his neck and stares at the ceiling.  
"You can go to work. Sorry, I can go back to Virginia, tomorrow I don't want to further disturb."

Mike grins and slaps him on his arm gently, “Are you kidding? I’ve already been trying to think of all the places we could go. We can spend the whole weekend together if you want. I pray that Harvey doesn't call me on Saturday in and I try to work extra fast tomorrow. Then we could go out if you up to go. I don't have friends outside of work either and it would be nice to have some fun but if you want to stay inside we can do that too," Mike blasts.

"Thank you, you don't have to. But I'd like to spend some time in New York, I didn't saw the tourist things sights yet."  
"Me neither," Mike admits.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah, really. Man if we'd play "never have I ever", I bet we both will be so drunk in a couple of Rounds."

"I never played that game," Spencer says in a tired voice and yawns.

"What?! Oh, man, we could change that. But I don't want you to wash your grief away with alcohol it never helps. The morning after you only will greet with headaches and realize that nothing changed. The problems don't vanish. It only numbs the pain for a few hours. But they are plenty of other healthy ways to distract you. And god, I never sound so mature, before. Harvey would tease me some much if he would be here."

Alternatively to a reply, Mike hears a snort.

Spencer fell asleep to his voice.   
Mike settled in and put the blanket about both.  
He shifts and puts a foot over Spencer's but keeps his back turn. Platonic skin-to-skin contact will hopefully keep the nightmares away.

When Spencer wakes up the spot next to him is empty and cold. He looks at the alarm clock, it's quarter past ten. 

Mike was right, sleeping next to a person helps to keep the nightmares away. He goes to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to make coffee. On the kitchen counter is a note.

_"Mi casa es su casa... you can explore my book collection and everything else you want. Text me if you have a question and please stay!"_

Under the text was Mike's phone number. As if he had forgotten.

He makes the coffee and briefly checks his phone. Each one of his team texted him yesterday. He sends a text to JJ to tell her that he is ok but not in DC.

Then he takes a look at Mike's book collection. There is every kind. Science fiction, biographies, law books, romances...

He picks one book and sits with the coffee mug on the sofa.

**Evening**

"Earth is amazing! There are these things called farms. They put seeds in the ground, pour water on them, and they grow into food, like pizzas!".

Spencer smiles amused, "You quoted the Captain from the movie Wall-E."

The recognition earned Mike a shocked expression. 

"What? I watched the movie with my coworkers. Can we watch it now?", Spencer asks with huge puppy eyes.

Of course, Mike couldn't resist and agree. So they watch the film while they wait for the delivery. Shortly the pizza arrives.

When Spencer doesn't eat his pizza slice, he frowns. “Dude, eat. It’s not like we’re gonna run out of food. We got four pizzas and two of them are mind-blowing."

Spencer flushes red and nods, picking up a piece of pepperoni pizza with cheese in the crust. He stares at it like it was foreign before taking a small bite and looking at Mike as he chews.

Mike grins from ear to ear. “See? Not gonna kill you."

Spencer frowns and places the pizza back on his plate. He has the "you are wrong" expression on his face. That promises a bubble about statistics and science.

"Actually if you ingest more than 50 to 60 grams of cheese a day, your body will be overloaded with fat, salt, or sugar. This leads to increased cholesterol levels. The cholesterol can build up in the arteries and clog them, which in turn can lead to poor circulation. Furthermore, the saturated fatty acids in many kinds of cheese are also the reason for preventing the intake of essential fatty acids. It is precisely these that are extremely important for the body because they have an anti-inflammatory effect. By blocking the supply, an existing inflammation can be intensified and thus trigger arthritis, for example. The milk-containing product also slows down the liver function, which increases toxicity in the body. This process damages the tissue enormously and in the long term can, for example, promote the development of cancer." He bubbles all in one without making a break to breathe.

"So four of these Pizza's could kill me," he added. Mike raises his eyebrow and growled.

"I should see that coming. God, I'm that annoying too?", he mumbles to himself.

"Are you gonna eat the four Pizza's tonight?", Spencer shakes his head.

"Of course not we share them. But what if I want to eat some other milk-containing product?" Mike chuckled. "Come on, "dead because of pizza". No, no don't correct me," he holds a hand up when he saw that Spencer opens his mouth to correct him.

"I know it's the cheese, not the Pizza, and it's mean long-term... Anyway isn't it a better way to die than through some violent act? If I die because of Pizza I would die happy because the pizza was delicious, I enjoyed myself and that's all that matters."

Spencer opens his mouth then closed it, looking like a fish, "Y-You probably right." 

"Awesome, now finish eaten your Pizza. You are thinner than me." In these moments Mike feels like a teacher.

They also watch the first four episodes of _Good Omens_ , once Mike finds out Spencer hasn’t seen it, and sit together on Mike’s squashy old couch, which is small enough to necessitate sitting with their thighs pressed together lengthwise. Spencer ends up listening to a twenty-minute rant Mike goes on about the validity of the book-to-adaptation differences, and it's so refreshing that he isn't the one for once who rambles for twenty minutes. 

When Mike comes from the bedroom back dress in pajamas, Spencer sits on the couch, wearing the clothes Mike gave him last night. Mike joins him and takes the remote control to turn the TV back on, but a hand on his wrist stops him. Spencer shakes his head, then groans and held his head with both hands.

"Headache?” Mike asks sympathetically, and Spencer gave him a little nod, keeping his eyes closes. His headache is sitting over his right eye as if it had been nailed there.

Mike stands up and goes to the kitchen. A minute later he appears next to Spencer on the sofa again and handed Spencer a couple of white pills and a glass of water. At Spencer’s apprehensive look, Mike said, “Relax, they’re just Tylenol."

After a short moment, Spencer takes the pills and drinks the water. He leans with his head against the sofa and covers his eyes with his arm. Mike understands immediately and turns off the light. 

"Do you often have migraines?", Mike whispers as he sits awkwardly next to Spencer who hasn't moved from his previous position.

"Yes, lately more often than I would like," Spencer mumbles in a quiet voice back.

"You could tell me before the pains went so strong, you know... I guess it's time to sleep then. Take my bed, I can sleep here," Mike states as he stands up to switch the light on again.

Spencer groans from his places and his eyes still shut.

"Come on, move!", Mike demands gently.

Slowly Spencer obliges and goes to Mike's bedroom.

"Good night," Mike yells as he settles down on the couch and gets lost in thoughts. 

Mike jolts awake by a scream. It took him a few seconds to remember while he sleeps on his old couch. Then he remembers Spencer and he runs with more painkillers and a glass of water in his hands to his bedroom just in case. Spencer's whole body shakes in fear. Mike doesn't know whether he is or not awake so he carefully goes to the bed and first put the water on the nighttable.

His chest aches and he tries to calm himself, otherwise, he'll be no use in calming Spencer. He dares to move a little closer, hand held out, till he's close enough to brush against Spencer's clothed skin. He flinches but doesn't move away, and Mike counts that as a win. Spencer exhales, and the tension seems to bleed out from his shoulders. Mike steps closer and climbs in the bed, their hips bumping against each other, and carefully wraps his arm around his houseguest.

Another exhale, and Spencer buries his face in Mike’s shoulder and sobs again, a pained sound that makes Mike shush him automatically.

Figuring Spencer needs to let it all out he just held him and starts stroking his back up and down with one hand.

Of course, one crying season doesn't make everything ok. Maybe if he'd sleep with Spencer again... uh shared the bed with him again he wouldn't have a break down now. Last night profs that sharing body contact helps to keep the nightmares away after all.

Only when Spencer falls completely silent Mike dares to ask, “Do you still have a migraine?”

Spencer shakes his head, but Mike doesn't let him go, tightening his arms around him when Spencer started shivering. “I’m s-so sorry,” he whispered brokenly, his voice hoarse from crying and sobbing. Reluctantly, Spencer pulls away but Mike doesn’t let him go. “I’m so sorry, that it happens again, I’m so sorry. I'm so weak,” Spencer whispers, his voice full of pain and guilt.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Mike says, his voice is in a soft pitch. "Of course you are not weak. I told you that healing needs time and I also told you that I'm here for you."

Spencer is still in his arms save for the occasional little shudder, so Mike offers, “Did you want to talk about it?".

“N-Not really.....”, Spencer whispers and shifts closer to him. “But maybe... maybe I should talk?” He sniffles. “I didn't talk to you last night.”

"If you wanna talk about it, I’ll listen. You seemed... really scared. It wasn't completely about what happened with uh... ”, Mike pauses, not sure how to say it.

Spencer respires in a breath and blew it out like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Maybe you can continue with your tale about the eidetic memory? It has to do with that a little bit....".

Mike nods then remembers that Spencer can't see him. "Yes, if it helps you."

"The downside is that it means our brain never switches off. Constantly processing and reevaluating whatever we have learned means that we can never stop thinking, we can never relax. The constant thoughts, the worry it’s overbearing, it hurts, and sometimes it's just too much to deal with," he rubs an absent hand up and down Spencer’s back.

Then he takes a deep breath and croaked out, "I found an unhealthy way to deal with all of that... I- I used weed-", clearing his throat a little. "My former best friend introduced me to it. And it was good. It gave me a chance to breathe, to numb my brain long enough to stop questioning, to stop the pain, to stop the urges.  
But this coping method had its downside too. I become addicted and I got in trouble... anyway I promise Harvey, my boss, by the way, to never smoke weed again. I'm managing so far. But it isn't always easy and sometimes when things are really stressed at the firm I'm really tempted to smoke again."

Mike feels better getting it off his chest, Spencer's hand on his knee that somewhere in his story Spencer had placed there. It is a nice comfort. Spencer looks at him like he is a new science to solve. 

"I always wish to find someone who understands me and I never thought that the moment would ever come that someone could exactly explain how I feel without profiling me. Just simply share their own experience." He took a deep breath and took Mike's hand in his, give a squeeze. Mike stared at their hand in surprise.  
It really touches him that Spencer let him of all people into his space like this, and he swears to himself that he never let him go again. They would hold contact.

Spence wants to continue but doesn't know-how. Mike holds tight his hand, gently caressing the smooth skin with his thumb. Slowly Spencer finds the words and courage.  
"Four years ago before we met again at the airport... I got kidnapped and the unsub drugs me with Morphine. My team found me but after that, I got addicted and it took me some time to became clean again. Part of the reason why it was so difficult was what you describe because the drug helped me to relax for a while."

Mike's eyes fill with tears, god he is so terrible. "Jesus, I'm so sorry. You had it a lot harder. I became addicted to a simple drug because I choose and you were forced," he wants to pull out the hold of their clap hands but Spencer doesn't let him.

"Oh god and here I was complaining like it was a big deal. I'm really sorry," Tears fall from Mike's face.  
"No, it's ok. Please don't cry. You just explained why and I can tell you had a hard time too. Someone close to you died?", Spencer gently asks.

Mike nods and took a deep breath, "Yeah, when I was eleven years old my parents died in a car accident. Since there I only had my grandmother so I know how important it is to have someone who understands and is there for you."

It is Spencer's turn to feeling guilty.  
"God, I'm sorry."

Mike chuckles drily "I think we have to stop to apologized and compare who has it worse. We didn't experience the same but it still hurt and mattered."

Mike reaches out to switch on the bedside lamp and winced when he saw the time on his alarm. Spencer follows his gaze. 

"I'm sorry to wake you up. You are probably still tired from work," Spencer says in a low voice, full of guilt.

Mike wave off, "It's ok. It's Saturday and my boss gave me the day off. It's just that I want to sleep in the bed with you if you don't mind?".

"I don't mind. It's surprised me but when I think more about it, it shouldn't", Spencer confesses.

Mike looks at him questioningly but moves to tuck himself in the bed and shut the lamp off. Spencer lays down under the blanket and snuggles to Mike's sides.

Saturday begins with Mike waking up to find Spencer was completely plastered against him. Spooned up behind him, with his arms wrapped tightly around Mike’s chest and one long leg shoved between his. Warm puffs of breath were tickling Mike’s neck where Spencer was apparently snugged up behind him on the pillow.

_Awkward._

He closed his eyes again and debated the easiest way to extract himself from the situation. He should untangle himself from him and then act as nothing happened. But the previous night's breakdown signaled that Spencer obviously needed something to help him get through this, and he chose Mike of all people because it felt right to him. And Spencer was the one who was there for him when he was kicked out of school. It was one of the bad days of his life but Spencer could ease the pain for a few hours. So that's what he would do too.

They will take the whole weekend to break away from all the pain their brain has made. That's the source of Spencer's migraine. It represents something Mike hope was wrong but he knows he is not because that what _his_ headache represented. It's overwhelming to know you are not alone.

He never treated Spencer like an inferior. Every silly touristy thing Spencer wanted to do, Mike happily did with him;

Starting with vising three museums and one art gallery and lunch at a hot dog cart, continue with spending two hours at two different book stores and the city liberty. After that, they went cloth shopping for Spencer, just a shirt, pants, and underwear. Then they went to Broadway at the Ninth Avenue watching Macbeth. Both mouthing the lines along through the whole play.

In the evening both were hungry so Mike leads them to a Chinese restaurant. The blonde man insists to order noodles and use chopsticks. Spencer has a blush on his cheeks. 

"Apparently Chinese ancestors were the first **who invented chopsticks**. They did this by discovering that using two twigs is better for reaching into pots full of hot water or oil, rather than using hands or fingers. The earliest version of Chinese chopsticks was used for cooking about 6,000-9,000 years ago," Spencer blurts out as he fights to get the noodles into his mouth.

Mike nods amused and fights the urge to laugh. 

"More than 20 percent of the world's population relies on chopsticks for eating," Spencer throws out another random fact about chopsticks to cover his embarrassment.

"That's very interesting and do _you_ know that why do Koreans use metal chopsticks?", Mike asks smiling up at his friend with amusement that made his eyes twinkle 

Spencer nods as another noodle fall on his plates.

"Instead of **chopsticks** made of bamboo or wood, Koreans favor chopsticks made of **metal** for eating. ... Metal utensils are said to be more hygienic, as they are easier to clean at a higher temperature. Particularly, metal chopsticks are ideal for picking up sizzling hot meat from the grill at the Korean BBQ table," he feels a lot safer when he can state facts.

Mike shows him slowly how he use the chopsticks and nods acknowledges. "That's right do you read it on the internet, too?". Spencer tries another attempt and shook his head. 

After dinner, they took a brief walk through the streets to the subway in comfortable silence. Their arms grazing against each other through their clothing.

"Do you want to drink Doctor Who-themed cocktails or go home?", Mike asks in the subway. 

"Doctor Who-themed cocktails sounds interesting. I’d love to go ”, Spencer said with a smile, his voice soft and happy. Mike smiled back at him.

"Which is your favorite Doctor?", Spencer asks as they exit the subway.

"You are my favorite Doctor," Mike teases.

"You flatter me,” Spencer says shyly, waving a hand.

They get in the bar and it's pretty crowded. A booth is free so they sit opposite each other and wait for the waiter. 

Spencer takes out a book from his messager bag. 

"You don't take clothes with you, but books?", Mike asks in disbelief.

"Yes, do want to read? It helps me when I'm anxious and I know you'll give me the book back in three minutes and twenty seconds back. So long I can wait," Spencer shows him the title _The magical mathematics of quantum physics._

Mike raises an eyebrow in unimpressed. "Well, normally I would refuse but I'm good with numbers and you are wrong, my friend," Mike takes the book and leaf through the book.

"Why I'm wrong? I read 20.000 words per minute. I assume you read 19000 words per minute and the whole book has 60800 words."

"Why should I read slower than you?! Let's make a bet. I bet that I finish the book in 3,07 minutes. The loser has to pay for the cocktails,"

"That's means that you read twenty-thousand words per minute too. Ok, but for what the three extra seconds?", Spencer asks in confusion.

"For telling you I'm finished and possibles distractions," Mike explains.

Spencer thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.” he agrees easily.

"Glad that you accepted. A free cocktail here I come," Mike smirks forming a fist in victory. 

Spencer looks at his watch and gives him the go. Two minutes later the waitress comes and asks for their order.

"I'll have Dr. five Cocktail. Thanks," while Mike speaks he turns four pages without looking at the waitress.

Spencer orders the same and gives a polite smile.

"One minute left," Spencer says and watches Mike fascinated. For him, it was normal reading fast but it is a completely different feeling seeing another person doing the same.

"The drink even tastes better when you don't pay for it," Mike smirks smugly at Spencer after he successfully won the bet. Two seconds before the time would be over, Mike's eyes have scanned the last word. 

Spencer doesn't feel disappointed for losing the bet. Paying for mike's cocktail is the least he could do. He is grateful that Mike was the whole time so kindly to him. He did more for him than Spencer deserves.

"You know the last time I made a bet I earned a _thousand bucks_ for passing the bar without attending law school," Mike says in a light voice like he is talking about the weather.

Spencer's brow furrows, "But you went to college," he protests

"Yeah, but the dickhead didn't know," Mike says with a smug smile.

\----(Sunday)

"We'll vising my grandmother. No, don't argue. You are still sad and Granny has always a way to cheer people up. And I want to see her kicking your ass at chess,"

In the common room of the nursing home. is a piano. Spencer eyes the piano with interest. 

"Can you play?", Mike asks, after following Spencer's gaze. 

Spencer shrugged, "I guess. It's all Math, after all".

"You never tried it?", Mike doesn't wait for Spencer's answer. Mike pulls him by the arm to the piano chair. Both squeeze into the chair. Their legs and shoulders were touching. The feel of his friends’ body heat eased something inside him and Spencer felt his whole body relax a little.

With closed eyes, Mike begins to play an unfamiliar melody. 

The music was, without doubt, or quantification, beautiful. It wasn't a piece Spencer recognized. The notes mixed in a haunting kind of way, mournful but with a touch of hope. 

As the last note fades away, Mike opens his eyes and wipes his head to Spencer's, gazing into Spencer's eyes, loving the intense stare he got in return. The staring continues a little until Spencer clears his throat and leans a bit back. 

"That's was lovely. Can I try it?"

Mike blushes and nods his head, "Of course, I'll teach you."

Mike plays the first notes again and then stops so Spencer could copy them.

He even explains how the piano works.

"Very good now we can play in front of Granny."

"I think I'm not good enough to play for an audience", Spencer nervously chewed on his lower lip.

"We played the whole time with an audience," Nodding his head behind him where the nursing house members sit and clapped.

Spencer tenses and flushes, "Oh."

"Come on, they like it. I often play for them and Granny," Mike says genuinely.

"Let's go fetch Granny. She'll be impressed by how fast you learn it. They all are our wideness", Mike nods to their audience and looks back to Spencer who stared at the piano keys.

Feeling the gaze he lifted his head to look at the younger one, he only nodded because his throat seemed a little tighter, and he hasn't trusted his voice.

It's was dark but the day was not over and Mike thought that they didn't do the most cliche thing, you can do besides going to broadway: standing on the observation deck at the Empire State Building. 

Gazing at the lights stretching all the way to Queens and the stars above them. 

Mike, wherever he was in all those lights, had missed out.

"I have some many thoughts right now", Spencer said in a low voice.

"I'm not a woman," the older man look at Mike as he was stupid.

"What?! I thought we state obvious facts," he held his hands up in surrender.

Spencer laughs, playfully punching his arm. "Smartass," he says, completely without heat.

They turn towards the scenery focuses on the twinkling lights in the distance, the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, the sound of cars.

"I wonder how many people are doing the same now," Spencer says, and his voice is soft as he still looks to the sky, his shoulder touches Mike's.

"Ah, I see you are one of those people who get all philosophical about the stars and space", Mike teased while looking at the view before them.

Spencer shifts next to him, the smallest of movements, but enough to bring Mike back to reality within half a second, looking over to find Spencer’s eyes still fixed on the horizon. 

"I could come with so many facts right now but I'm not in the mood right now," Spencer says with a sigh.

“Say what now?”, Mike looks at him, bewilderment clear on his face. "You not in the mood? You?! Do you need an ambulance? Stating facts is like breathing for you."

Spencer meets his gaze with a steady, decisive one.

"It is because that gives me safety. I know I'm good at them. I can surprise people with them. But right now I don't need it," he shrugged.

"Ok, dude. Then go all philosophy on me but if you get too sentimental and I'd cry then I'll throw you over that barrier." Mike treats without meaning it.

"Now I think you sound like your boss," amusement clearly heard in Spencer's voice.

"How would you know you don't know him," the blond asks confused.

Spencer shrugs again, facing the lights of the city again. "I just figure. I'm wrong?"

"When are you ever wrong?", Mike asks rhetorically.

"Just because I know a lot it doesn't mean I do everything right. There were times... I screw things up too... ", Spencer says bitterly.

Surprised at the sound of Spencer's voice, Mike decided to do the thing that they do when one is upset and the other doesn't know what to do or say.

"As a wise man once quotes to me: An inventor fails 999 times, and if he succeeds once, he’s in. He treats his failures simply as practice shots", Mike pats Spencer's arm. 

Spencer lets out a choked laugh, "Wise man huh."

"You forgot good-looking," Mike grinned cheekily. 

That comment gets Mike a surprise smile in return.

"Don't look so surprised. It's your hair that makes you look like a boyband member and who can't resist that? Not me, I grew up with the backstreet boys," Mike teases, nudging Spencer in his side.

"Look who sounds like my boss now?"

"Your boss grew up with the backstreet boys?!"

It's 10 pm when they arrive at Mike's. Spencer stumbles and almost kisses the floor because Mike's bike is in the living room.

"Sorry", Mike mumbles as he went to his bedroom to change. 

"When are you leaving tomorrow?", Mike calls.

"At noon, the plane is boarding at two pm," Spencer shouts back.

Mike meets him on his sofa, sitting next to him "Don't you have work in the morning?"

"No, we have the day off because you know...".

"Sorry for bringing this up," Mike says awkwardly.

"You can sleep in. I have to leave at 7 am, biking for almost one hour to work." 

"Cycling increases blood flow to the brain and allows more oxygen to enter your system. Also, cycling enables the different parts of our brain to communicate better with each other, which increases our cognitive performance. While cycling, you produce certain substances such as endorphins and serotonin. These substances give off a feeling of happiness and thus reduce stress symptoms," Spencer replies with his stating fact face.

"Well, when you put it like that... I actually feel fresher and in a happier mood when I bike there, except if I sleep in then biking to work makes my mood worse and I'm more stressed." 

After a moment Mike snipes his finger.

"Do you want to share one last meal at noon? I even escort you to the airport. I think a client comes and I can pick him up personally. So two birds with one stone."

"I'll pick you up from school kid and you pay for my lunch at the airport, so we have more time together," Spencer tries to keep a straight face under Mike's scrutiny. 

Mike shakes his head scandalized, "You are not so kind like you seem, asshole. With that attitude, I won't pay for your expensive lunch at the airport."

With a huge grin, Spencer nudges his shoulder. "Come on, you love me."

Spencer genuinely can't remember the last time he had this much fun.

He feels completely at home and the moment, for once doesn't feel his mind thinking about five things at once. At this instant, all he can think about, all he can focus on, is Mike.

**Monday noon**

"You're like the only person who's ever gotten what I'm about. Sure you don't know everything about me but what you know it's more than some of the people who know me for years now," Mike makes a confused sound as he sucks on the white straw from his milkshake. 

Spencer took a sip from his coffee, "Sometimes I feel like none of ‘em get me, you know? Like… I’m not like them. But… But you’re like me. Well not exactly like me. I think you are a bit cooler than me you know how to have fun, to live a little," he rambles.

"Apart from your character we are both geniuses. So at this point, We’re the same and you just told me that you struggle with our ability too. The weekend showed me that I can be myself around you. You don't judge me for being such a nerd. Maybe because you are a nerd too," Spencer jokes at the end with a teasing smile.

“Hey!”, Mike says, dragging out the word in both offended and amusement.

"When I’m around all the others I gotta pretend to act like them. And that's the reason I show up at your flat, I realize. It wasn't a rational thought it was more an urge to go somewhere safe where I'm not alone and be with someone who understands me. Not because they could imagine how I feel but because you went through the same Journey and your Journey isn't over. And I don't mean just the griefing."

The words do not come out in a rush, like Mike might have expected them to; they’re not a confession born from a moment’s nostalgia, but from days, weeks, maybe months of thinking.

"Wow," Mike stared with an open mouth at his opponent and restricts the urge to pitch himself.

"It's a little scary like you are a mind reader. That's _exactly_ how I feel at work. I never told someone because I don't want to disappoint or offered them and besides that, I don't have really friends outside of work too. Hell, I'm not sure whether I have friends at work... It exactly how you said it. I have to pretend that I am the same as them, and sometimes I have the feeling I don't belong there. Then I wonder where I truly belong," he breaks up.

"Sorry I ramble. You don't want to hear that," Mike is sure he told too much. 

Spencer laughed a little. His first laugh since they meet at the airport and Mike couldn't help but smile too. His worry washes away with that laugh. He manages to make him laugh in his situation, Mike is kinda proud of himself.  
"It's alright. I don't mind. It's a nice change. Normally I'm the one who rambles until the others tell me to shut up," Spencer says as shuffles closer, bumping their knees under the table together.

Suddenly Mike's expression unreadable, as he looks at his watch. 

"We should go. Your plane board in ten minutes."

Without a word, Spencer gets to his feet.

“Thank you for everything,” Spencer whispers against the side of Mikes’s head, arms wrapped around Mike’s.

Delighted that Spencer has actually initiated a hug and in public, Mike leans into him with all his weight. “You’re welcome,” the blond mumbles against Spencer’s shoulder. 

"You have no idea…” Spencer continues and Mike can feel him shaking a little. “Thank you again, Michael.”

After a few minutes, Mike pulls back to see the other's face.

Slowly he lifts his right hand and uses his knuckles to gently wipe away the few remaining tears on Spencer’s face, he isn't in a better state. Before he can withdraw, Spencer lifts his own hand and lightly holds Mike’s in place on his cheek, giving it a reassuring squeeze and wipes the wetness also away.

"What if I screw this up, again?" Spencer worries.

"You are talking to the king of screw-ups. I am the master of screwing up. " Mike says gazing at Spencer intently. Spencer gazes back, letting Mike’s calmness wash over him and make him safer.

"We can do is. Text me when you arrive at home."

Mike gives him one last hug.

"And keep in mind that Grammy practical adopt you. She'd be mad if you don't meet her again."

Spencer hugs him back with a watery smile and huge sad eyes. 

_Text Messages_

_S: Knock knock.”_  
_M: “Who’s there?”_  
_S: “To.”_  
_M: “To who?”_  
_S: “Actually, it’s to whom.”_

_M: *groans*, not funny._

_S: why? It's true._

_M: Three hours without me and you are not funny anymore._

_S: :(_

_M: The old man know **emojis** :O_

_S: I'm not that much older than you._

_M: Nevertheless you write like an old person._  
_Too formal, even Harvey writes better and he's practically your twin brother in spirit._

_S: I doubt that._

_M: I agree. You are less an asshole and show your emotions. And you admit that you love me :D_

_And according to Harvey, I'm the reflection of him. So if you'd be his twin, I would be your twin too. One big family. Sounds weird. I stop thinking like that._

_S: Thanks for the first part. When did I say such a thing?_

_Can't you wait till I answer? Now we have too many topics._

_M: Already overwhelmed?! Like I said old man :D_

_S: Don't you have work to do?_

_M: I have the ability to multitask._

_And you told me that I'm the only person who's ever gotten what you are about, today. If you already have forgotten it._

_S: I was quoting Nick from Freaks and Geeks  I thought you'd figure it out._

_M: I have and he said it to his girlfriend!_

_S: You never will letting it go?_

_M: The first rule as a lawyer: Never state the obvious._

_S: You rather imitate people with whom you can identify to signal your own sympathy and to gain their sympathy. This leads to the impersonator liking the other more and building a better relationship. Mimicry, therefore, leads to a feeling of connectedness that acts like a social glue that also increases willingness to help. Also, social mimicry, in general, increases prosocial tendencies towards third parties that go beyond the direct interaction dyad and are therefore of elementary importance for the ability to cooperate._

_M: Seriously, why are we friends? You quoted "Chartrand, T. L.: The chameleon effect: The perception-behavior link and social interaction"._

_BORING_

_S: It's not boring. I just realized I never told you that I also have a degree in psychology_

_anyway, it's an explanation of why your boss wants you to be his reflection._

_M: So if I imitate him I build a better relationship, interesting. And of course, imitate the clients would have advantages..._

_S: Did you cheat? You sound like you cheat._

_M: I didn't cheat. I knew the quote but I hadn't it on my mind. I- I mean... You know what I mean. Better than anyone._

_S: I know, I just was messing with you ;)_

_M: That's a first..._

**16.6**

Mike sends a picture from a Redbull can.

_Cheers to the birthday boy_

_ Incoming Call _

"Happy Birthday! I didn't know otherwise I'd congrats you. How does it feel being uh how old?”

“Ugh,” Mike groaned. “I am twenty-seven now and I hate that question.”

Spencer snorts. “Well, I’m sorry. I’m making conversation.”

“I know… It’s just… it feels the same, doesn’t it? You’re just you still, it’s just one more day. I mean, you’re turning thirty in wait, when is your birthday exactly?”

“On October 28?” Spencer offers, sounding a little confused by Mike's rant. Other people would find it odd that two friends don't know the date of the other's birthday but it's just how their friendship is. Never pry, never probe. 

“Right, so… in about four months! Thirty! Supposedly a big one… But it’s all gonna feel the same as before.”

Spencer smiles, a little sadly. “And here I was, expecting my whole life would magically change.”

“Spencer…”

“I’m joking,” he says.

Mike waves him off.

“It's ok I get it. There’s a lot about _my_ life I’ve changed and I’m still working towards changing. I’m not naive enough to think some silly milestone is just going to do that for me.” He looks pensive for a second, eyes fixed on his desk. Luckily for him, he was alone in the bullpen.

"How great would that be though. To suddenly reach an age and bam… you’ve got all the grown-up answers.”

“Well,” Spencer says, trying to give him hope, “I’m turning thirty soon so fingers crossed?”

Mike is quiet then says in a low voice, “Yeah.”

"So you didn't celebrate?", Spencer asks to change the subject to something he could work with.

"I did with Redbull, that was the picture for. My boss doesn't care that today was my birthday."

"Oh, did you get at least a cake?"

"No, who would give me a cake?", Mike snorts with a hint of a bitter tone.

"Your grandmother?", Spence suggests a bit irritated. Mike is a nice guy, he sure has someone who cares for him, right? Even Spencer has his colleagues who congregated with him on every birthday he had and he isn't a social butterfly.

"She would but she can't make one."

"Are you visiting her?"

"Yes, on Saturday and Sunday."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah, it is," Spencer could Mike imagine that he smiles fondly as he said that. The man really loves this woman so much.

**Sunday**

"What are you doing here?", Mike askes as he opens the door and sees Spencer, standing there with a smile.

"Celebrating your birthday?"

"At 8 am, on a Sunday?!", clearly Spencer is a morning person, Mike never understands how people could be so cheerful in the morning.

"I brought breakfast", Spencer says not understanding the problem. Mike really doesn't want to know when the other man woke up. From DC to New York by train, it takes four hours. By plane takes one hour. He hopes that Spencer took the plan. It would make him guilty that Spencer would awake at four o'clock on one of his rare days off and spending four hours on a train just for him. But in a way, it touches him. Spencer has such a kind heart and really wants to be a good friend after he broke the connection almost a year ago. 

They eat pancakes with a mountain of fruits and homemade whipped cream, Spencer is unable to stop laughing when Mike gets cream all over his face in his enthusiasm to eat tongue first. When they’re done, Spencer insists on washing the dishes, giving Mike such a stern look that Mike doesn’t have it in him to argue. 

When Mike comes back to the kitchen he sees a box on the table.

“If that’s cake, I truly can not eat,” Mike declares dramatically.

“It’s your birthday,” Spencer says firmly. “You’re eating cake.”

"My birthday was on Thursday," Mike corrects but going forward to open the lid. 

It’s chocolate, decadent, way too big for only two people who have been stuffing their face-off all morning, but what the hell, it’s a special occasion. Fancy gold letters are spelling "Happy Birthday, Mike" on the icing, the rest of the cake simple and void of decoration.

Perplex Mike looks up from the cake to Spencer, truly touched again.

"You shouldn't. Being here would be enough or sending me the cake would do it too," pulling Spencer in a hug.

"I have something else for you," Spencer says when Mike releases him from the hug. He reaches into his briefcase and produces an elegantly wrapped ivory and claret box. Mike opens the box carefully without a word (because he knows Spencer wouldn't accept a no) and pulls out a classy-looking glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

“Eau de Parfum is a very…intimate…gift,” he says carefully.

“Perfume is as singular as the person who wears it, interacting with each individual’s body chemistry uniquely. What is beguiling on you, would smell musty or sour on another.” Spencer takes the perfume and opens it to anoints Mike's pulse point on his wrist with the perfume. “Your blood rises to the surface of your skin and heats the chemical compounds. The top notes, usual florals, are released first."

Mike closes his eyes and inhales. When he opens them they are dark and glassy. “I take it that you like the Eau de Parfum,” Spencer says with a little smile. "What's unique about this fragrance is that it combines aromatic-woody scents with the invigorating freshness of citrus. That makes it suitable for wearing in the winter or summer months."

"A perfume is like a piece of clothing, a message, a way of presenting oneself a costume that differs according," Mike put the bottle aside to wrap Spencer in a hug again. Spencer smiles satisfied against Mike's shoulder. "By Paloma Picasso."

_Text messages between M &S (5.7.2011)_

_M:-What's the saddest word in the English language?_  
_S: Almost_  
_M: Why?_  
_S: "I was almost good enough. He was almost in love with me. She almost survived. We almost made it."_

_M: Damn, now I'm depressed._

_S: You wanted to know._

_M: Right..._

_S: If it helps you are good enough. You survive life and we will make it._

_M: And what is with the loving part? You can admit that you love me. We established that you love me the other day._

_S: I'm busy!_

_M: Aww, come on man. Don't blush. I know I'm awesome it is easy to fall in love with me. And you own me._

_S: Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash._

_M: OMG you quoted Top Gun! That's my favorite movie. Proops to you Spencer your timing was perfect._

_S: When you are finished hero-worshiping me can you admit that you love me?!_

_M: Hero-worship? Really? Just don't..._

_S: :P_

**September 2011**

"I think it's only fair for you to know about that too. Remember... I- I mean of course you'd remember...-", he bubbles nervous and plays with his fingers.  
Mike touches his hands with one hand to stop him.

"Hey, you don't have to be nervous. Don't think too hard about how to say it. Just day if you want to tell me. You don't have to feel obligated."  
Spencer swaps his right hand, palm up, and clapped their hands together.  
"Thank you for being so patient. It isn't easy to tell someone. I still can't believe it myself. My... eh co-worker who died almost a year ago is not dead. I cried for her, I bother _you,_ a stranger who I barely knew at that time. And it was all fake. I'm so mad right now. The one thing is now I know that it was right to listen to my unconscious. Maybe my unconscious knew that JJ was involved because she was the only one who knew."

Mike feels bad to do what he has to do next. 

"I have to tell you that because I'm your friend and I have to be honest with you," Mike squeezes Spencer's hand and looks him in the eyes. 

"I don't understand?", Spencer looks confused.

Mike runs his free hand through his hair, his other hand is still intertwined with Spencer's fingers.

"I forgive you a long time ago for that and you know that...", Mike wets his lips. "Do you not notice that Prentiss faked her death to protect you is the same goal you had as you cut contact with me?"

Spencer's jaw goes tight but his eyes are wide and he trembles a bit.

"It's not the same, Mike. She makes her friends believe that she was gone forever. I just end contact with you and you knew that I still lived," the agent tries to yanks his hand from Mike's grip but Mike doesn't let go. 

"Really did I knew that nothing happened?! One day we texted and the next day all I got was the automatic message that said: _We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service._ I called again but I couldn't reach you. Did I really know that nothing happened?! No, you could be dead too but I hoped that you were just tied to talk to me."

Spencer ducks his head in shame, he tries again to yanks his hand from Mike's grip but Mike just places a kiss on his knuckles and fingers.

"I didn't tell you that to make you feel guilty. I told you so you can forgive them more easily, and to realize that they did what they had to do to protect people who matter to them."

Spencer just stares ahead and silently cries.

"Forgive anyone who caused you pain or harm. Keep in mind that forgiving is not for others. It is _for you_. Forgiving is not forgetting. It is remembering without anger. It frees up your power, heals your body, mind, and spirit. Forgiveness opens up a pathway to a new place of peace where you can persist despite what has happened to you," Mike quoted, it fitted perfectly and he hoped that Spencer would take that advice.

"That's exactly what I did and without Prentiss faking her death I don't think you and I would become such great friends.

The day you come to my house upset, I couldn't help but be there for you. I never comfort someone besides clients and Jenny (former girlfriend) but with you, it was so natural. I didn't have to think back then. The weekend we spent together was besides your grief the best week that I had in a long time.  
We just clicked and not just because of our ability."  
After a while, Spencer nods and smiles hesitantly. Mike smiles back.

Mike couldn't help but reached for him and wrapped him in a tight hug.  
"I wanted to hug you since you started speaking," he mumbles.  
Spencer hugs back, buried his head on the blond's neck.  
"Thank you for pointing my mistake and make me realize I would be a hypocrite if I'd stay mad at them."

Mike just pulls him closer to him.

"It's really touched me when you said on that day that you didn't care if you'd in danger because of me. That you would never blame me," Spencer jerks away and angled his head to look Mike in the eyes.  
"You are some much more than your eidetic memory, Mike. It really pains me that you had such a hard life."  
"I haven't a hard life, anymore. My life is amazing since you and Harvey enter it," Mike whispers and couldn't help himself anymore, he stretches his head up to give him a short, gentle kiss on the forehead and leans his back on the couch. 

Without having to be acknowledged understanding passing between them as they staring at each other, unblinking and unabashed.

After a hard case that shock, all members of the BAU, Spencer sat in the jet and stared at his phone for five minutes without moving. When the screen went black he simply pushed the home button and then stared again.

Morgan watched Spencer for a couple of minutes and started to freak out. Sure the case was hard but he didn't like that the kid got lost in his brilliant mind or phone. This was even odder because Spencer normally didn't use his phone much.  
So he sat next to him, but Reid didn't notice him, just keep staring at his phone.

Morgan brushed his shoulders. 

"Hey pretty boy. What are you staring at?". Spencer blinked a couple of times and then slid his phone that sat on the table to his friend.

Morgan saw a long text message from "M" with no full name. He frowned and stared reading.

_I was buying dinner and there were a lady and two kids behind me in the LONG line. One was a big kid, one was a toddler. The bigger one had a pack of glowsticks and the baby was screaming for them so the Mom opened the pack and gave him one, which stopped his tears. He walked around with it smiling, but then the bigger boy took it and the baby started screaming again. Just as the Mom was about to fuss at the older child, he bent the glowstick and handed it back to the baby. As we walked outside at the same time, the baby noticed that the stick was now glowing and his brother said "I had to break it so you could get the full effect from it."_

_I stopped in my steps and froze because then suddenly I understood. That baby was happy just swinging that "unbroken" glowstick around in the air because he didn't understand what it was created to do which was "glow". Some people will be content just "being" but some of us that God has chosen, we have to be "broken". We have to get sick. We go through a divorce. We have to bury our partner, parents, friend, or our child because, in those moments of desperation, God is breaking us but when the breaking is done, then we will be able to see the reason for which we were created. We will see that we have to be broken to see that still, something good comes out of that._

Morgan blinked and read the text again.

"Wow, that was a hell of a story. That he get that of what he saw... just... wow," he swipes back to the beginning and saw another text. His eyes read it before he made the decision

 _"I'm strong but also destructive. I’m restless and harsh and hopeless. Though I have love inside myself. It’s just that I don’t know how to use love."_ Spencer texted back: — Clarice Lispector, from Água Viva.

He slid the phone back and look at Spencer amazed.

"If bad shit didn't happen to me, who's know where I would be today."

"Maybe I wouldn't be here too... He always finds a way to amaze me. I really need to read that."

"Me too. It's a good reminder after that case. Something good can come out of bad things too... Hey, do you mind if I let the others read that? I think we all need to read this."

Spencer shook his head. "No, I don't mind sharing this with you all." Derek stood up and went to Emily who read a book. "Hey, read this message I think you need to read this and above that text is a Clarice Lispector quote. Please pass the phone to the others but clean the phone before you give it to Spencer back," he whispered. Confused Emily accepted the phone.

When he came back to Spencer he started grinning. "So is M a member of your online book club? Clearly, he is a man as you said. I hope he is not your boyfriend, pretty boy. It would break my heart. Always had the vision of little geniuses from you and a pretty female nerd," he teased.

Spencer squirmed in his seat. He was a little uncomfortable with the teasing. "He is just a friend." 

Morgan looked at him, waiting for more information.

"We don't have an online book club. It's just what we do. We quote books and the other has to guess from who is it,"

"I bet you are never wrong", Morgan answered.

Before Spencer could explain that he isn't always right because sometimes he doesn't read all books in the world, the others finished reading the text message.

"Seem like a hell of a profiler," Rossi said.

"Who is M, Spence?" All eyes were set on Spencer who looked flushed.

"Can I have my phone back?", Spencer asks feeling uncomfortable by the attention.

JJ gave him the phone back with a question in her eyes. "Can we meet him at your birthday party?".

"Just seem like we all need some reminder," Spencer shrugged the questions off.

"Thank you for sharing. Now we got why you stared so long at that message," Hotch teased.

After Spencer arrived at home he decided to text Mike.

S _:" What is your life purpose?"_

_M: Don't know. Maybe I'm not broken enough_

_S: Don't say it..._

_M: It is truth trough. The only good thing that comes from my suffering is you and Harvey. Nothing else works and it's only a matter of time until I lose you too..._

_And Romantically its never works for me. Always thought I would have a family on my own one day. But now it isn't important to me. I have so many other things to do that I don't have time for dating._

_S: But the dating thing still bothers you?_

_M: I guess I learned the denial thing from Harvey... the dating thing still bothers me a little, remind me never to date a person that works in the same place as you..._

_S: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that._

_M: And that I really should hear more of my boss._

_But anyway my epiphany was for you. You still see so many broken souls every day and when I saw that scene I thought about that. There are always good things even when the bad things move in the front that you didn't see the good things first._

_S: Thank you. I'll get that. Sometimes I think my migraine attacks dissipate stress. My work is stressful. It requires me to face the dark side of existence, and the migraine attack, awful as it is, may be a cleansing convulsion that permits me to continue._

_ M: That's awful but yeah its exactly what I wanted you to understand. _

_ M: Are they getting better? _

_S:T he past ten days, I've had a migraine that follows me like a shadow. One hundred and forty-two hours of incessant pain, an eight on the ten-point scale. My doctor has suggested codeine, which I refused, because once I took too much Percocet after a tooth extraction and threw up for twenty-four hours straight. I have a CT scan, an MRI, I go to the neurologist—the readings are all inconclusive. I'm told it's a migraine with an unknown cause. Have you tried yoga? they say._

_ M: And the unknown cause worried you? _

_ S: Yes, of course. _

_M: you think that your migraine is a symptom of an illness that same illness your mother has. I just don't know which illness and you don't have to tell me._

_As Spencer read the message he actually flushes. He really liked how observant Mike was and how much he cared about him, his boundaries, his wellbeing, and his feelings. It was something very new for Spencer and it brought out feelings and reactions._

_S: Wow. You figured me out. Yes my mom. She’s schizophrenic. It’s bad sometimes. And I fear becoming sick like her._

_M: Shit, I'm sorry..._

_S: I guess it's about time that you know about that..._

_M: I really appricate your trust in me. We can do yoga together, the next time we'd meet ;)._

_**Oktober 14th** _

_S: You are invited!_

_*coordinates*_

_2 pm don't be late!_

_M: What?_

_S: You are a big boy. You'll figure it out._

_M: At least I have two weeks to make a plan to get a free day from work when we are in a middle of a crisis._

_S: Oh, you already figured it out? I thought you need more time. If you won't make it, it's alright._

_M: I'm a genius too :P_

_And I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything. After all, you only become thirty once in your lifetime._

_**October 28th** _

_S: If you’re not over here in 15 minutes, you can find yourself a new best friend._

_M: Ha, you’ve been saying that since the fifth grade, Ferris._

_**29th October** _

_S: Please accept my best thanks. I had a great time._

_M: Why can't we remember ANYTHING that happened last night?_

_S: That's one of the side-effects of Roofies. Memory loss._

_M: You are literally too stupid to insult._

_S: Thank you. _

_M: I know what you want to ask next. You are the one in a million, so why don't buy this spicy, autumnal perfume scent that is one in a million too?_

_S: I'm confused, I getting mixed signals here._

_M: you'll live with that._

_S: I suppose. As long I get expensive gifts I can live with you insulting me by using movie quotes._

_M: where is the heart emoji? :( I deserve at least a heart since I showed you the classic movies._

_S: I don't understand this sentiment._

_M: Of course not, old man._

**Halloween:**

_S: Happy Halloween!_

_M: Happy Halloween!_

_S: What are you doing?_

_M: Working, you?_

_S: Celebrating with Garcia :P_

_M: Let me guess, Dr. Who costume?_

_S: Yes, while you reading files._

_M: Yes. rub salt in this wound, asshole. I wish I'd be there with you. Stay safe and have fun!_

_S: You too! Don't work too much._

**December**

_M: If I'd write a book would you keep the book after you read it?_

_S: Should I call you?_

_M: No no need..._

_S: Of course, I would keep the book, Mike. You know us we would quote the entire book and people would think we both write it._

_M: So, you'd not only finish my sentences but keep the book?_

_S: I'll call you. Pick up!_

_Incoming call (1:32 am)_

"Hey, are you ok?"

"Yeah... I'm sort of. I just realized something today. For months... no probably since I meet you I try to classify you. Like, are your more like my BF or Idk... Then I read something and found the answer." He sounds awful. His voice was frantic, a tremor of panic badly concealed

"Can you tell me?", Spencer says calmly.

_M: "There are two people you'll meet in your life. One will run a finger down the index of who you are and jump straight to the parts of you that pique their interest. The other will take his or her time reading through every one of your chapters and maybe fold corners of you that inspired them most. You will meet these two people; it is a given. It is the third that you'll never see coming. That one person who not only finishes your sentences but keeps the book."_

The first person is Trevor. Trevor jumped to what he liked and took advantage of them. The other parts didn't interest him. It was hard to realize that but thanks to this I can finally let him go.

The second person who read the entire book and has a favorite part is Harvey. He was interested in me. Although I had nothing he gave me a chance because he saw how my brain worked and how bold and street smart I am. 

But I couldn't help but think that the third person is you. You even were there before the book was finished."

Spencer on the phone is speechless. He almost forgets to breathe.

"Spence, are you still there?", Mike asks concerned.

A few breathers later Spencer answers with a shaky voice. "I- Wow... I- I'm speechless actually".

Mike laughs unsure. "I'm sorry I shouldn't ambush you in the middle of the night with this I know...I- I just couldn't stop thinking when I read that."

"I'm sure Harvey would keep the book too," Spencer says still in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, if you say so," Mike says with an edge in his voice.

"Did something happened?"

"I made a huge mistake at work and Harvey yelled at me and gave me to another lawyer. I think I really destroy our relationship.  
He will stay mad with me."

"You make a mistake and now you think he never wants to work with you again?

"Yeah, he told me that we are done..."

Spencer says nothing sensing that he isn't done.

 _"_ It hurt. I understand him of cause. I'm mad at myself and I just fear that I lose him forever. And I just can't fail him too." Mike said miserably. “I always ruin everything. I-It would be easier without me.”

It _hurt_ to hear a boy like Mike saying this. He was so smart and kind and the purest person on the entire planet. And here he was, wishing he were... Spencer couldn't even think about it. Spencer dealt with criminals, psychopaths, sociopaths daily but here now he is overwhelmed. 

"So I focussed on the good thing. _You",_ the voice on the phone continues. 

The line is silent again. They breathe in unison on the phone, neither of them saying anything else for the longest of time. After a while, Mike’s breathing finally slows into a more normal pattern. Spencer sighs, shoulders dropping in relief and he settles down his sofa, the phone on his lap as he starts twisting its cord around his finger.

"Hey, I have good news. We get Christmas free. So I'll be home for Christmas if you want," Spencer changes the subject.

On the line is a snort to hear, "That's a terrible song."

"I don't quote a song," Spencer denies with a smile in his voice to hear.

"Sure sure", Mike says with a sarcastic tone, sounding much better.

"But I'd love to spending Christmas with you, very much," Mike says truthfully.

**Christmas Day:**

It’s strange to think it’s Christmas already. It seems it was only yesterday that Mike let his old acquaintance in his house.

"Did you bring two puzzles with you? Do you even know how the holidays work, Spen? Are you actually eighty years old? Is this what you do in your free time?”

Spencer frowns and ignored Mike's attempt to tease him. “Merry Christmas to you too. I want to make another bet with you.” 

Spencer bets that he can solve a 2000 -piece jigsaw puzzle of a Christmas village in twenty-one minutes.

Mike bets that he will be finished before twenty-one minutes. He believes in himself so he gives a special time: twenty minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

So both are hunched over a 2000 -piece puzzle, Mike is near the door and Spencer in the middle of the room with two timers on each phone on.

While solving the puzzle they munching on cookies that they got from Garcia and the nursing house. They could be finished sooner but they wanted to enjoyed it. 

Unfortunately for Spencer, Mike solved the puzzle eight seconds before his time was over.

So Mike won and Spencer owns him a favor.

Later in the afternoon, Mike throws himself next to Spencer on the couch, burying his face in Spencer's neck. "What book do you read right now. It's not one of mine?"

Spencer stiffens before he can help himself but then relaxes again as Mike tucks himself under the agent's arm. Mike either doesn't notice or pretends not to, which Spencer is grateful for. He's still learning to let people into his space like this, but it's easier and easier with the right people.

Spencer clears his throat, passing a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s a… It’s about a family in the 80s. They all love each other, but they’re quite unhappy. Their daughter died… It’s super depressing, actually.”

“Oh,” Mike says, scratching his arm and looking a bit puzzled.

“It is good, actually,” Spencer replies, knowing he sounds confused about his verdict. “Not very cheery, but the characters are quite compelling. I mean, they’re pretty much all horrible to each other, but you’re still rooting for them? It’s weird. Well written though, I suppose.”

“Can you read me a bit?” Mike asks with a soft voice.

Spencer laughs.

It’s the way Mike makes his demand that gets to Spencer, really. Simple, not even embarrassed.

“Of the book?” Spencer asks, looking down at where it’s open on his lap.

“Would you mind?” Mike says, this time sounding a little sheepish.

Spencer flounders at that. “I mean… No? Of course not. You won our bet and if that's what you want....” He’s not sure why Mike is asking at all, but it’s not like he minds doing it. It’s a bit of an unusual request, for sure, but that’s alright. Sharing things with friends is normal, he guesses.

“I’ll start from the beginning though, that way you’ll be able to follow properly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike protests, eyes widening. “I don’t want it to be a bother, you can keep going wherever you are right now…”

“I don't mind,” Spencer says, folding the corner of his page. “It’ll just be confusing for you if I carry on. You won’t know who anyone is.”

"You know I could catch on the same page you are in two minutes. If I read that by myself," Mike comments.

"I know but you want that I read for you. So we do the whole thing properly."

Mike chuckles, "You can say, like normal people."

Spencer shakes his head and starts at the beginning, voice a little raspy, rhythm a little off, but eventually, he gets into it properly, starts doing the voices as he goes through the second chapter, then the third, the fourth. Spencer’s voice is quite hoarse, but Mike hasn’t moved in ages, eyes wide open as he listens to Spencer telling him a story like this.

Finally, when Spencer gets to a good stopping point, he clears his throat. “Maybe we should go get some food? It’s almost eight o’clock, you must be hungry, hearing me reading almost two hours”, he says, voice cracking. It’s surprising how soothing and wholesome of an experience it is, how much it’s made him feel closer to Mike just by simply reading aloud. 

"Yeah, sorry. I forgot the time because it was quite relaxing, thank you," Mike says sheepishly.

They don't eat turkey instead they eat steaks with potatoes, that Mike makes.

For dessert, there are chocolate silk pie (from the same local bakery Mike's birthday cake had come from, not homemade), as well as pumpkin, and cherry and pear pie that had been Spencer’s mom’s favorite.

Gifts are exchanges too but no books. 

An old lucky coin for Spencer because he isn't the jewelry kind of person and for Mike a new messager bag and a key chain with a quote from his favorite movie (Top Gun) engraved.

Both look at each other with shiny tears in their eyes, both speechless. 

After seconds Mike managed to stand up from his spot next to his tiny Christmas tree to hug Spencer.

"Thank you, so much." 

Honestly, that was the best Christmas both had since they were kids.

_14 Feb 2012 08:32 AM_

On Spencer's desk was a small package. Carefully looking at the label and he raised a surprised eyebrow as he read who the sender was. 

"Oh, I hope it isn't something dangerous," Morgan said as he approaches Spencer's table.

Spencer ignored him as he opened the small package. Inside was a golden case for pens. Wiping his thumps carefully at the case that had his name engraved, he opened it carefully as it was a bomb. 

"You got a secret admirer for Valentine's day?"

Pulling the pen out of the case he looks at it from all sides. Then he caught something written on side of the golden pen: 

**_"All great and precious things are lonely."_ **

Spencer laughed in surprise as he recognized the quote.

"Uh, I don't get it. Why would someone gift you a pen?", Morgan asked in confusion. 

Huh, Morgan was still there Spencer had forgotten him. 

He looked at him as he clenched the pen to his chest. "It's perfect. A _thoughtful gift_ from a friend."

"Just _a_ friend who sends you a gift on Valentine?",

"Yeah, the gift should remind me, being alone isn't bad."

Morgan's expression went in something soft. 

"Of course, you are not alone. You got us."

Spencer nodded, "I know but the sender probably means since it's valentine's day the holiday about love that being lonely isn't bad because all _great and precious things are lonely_ ....."

"That's really sweet and thoughtful from Mike," Morgan squeezed gently his shoulder.

"I'm glad you have him, Spencer," Morgan added seriously.

Spencer ducked his head.

\--

_M: *sends pictures*_

_I brought a new apartment for Granny._

_S: You want her out of the nursing home?_

_M: Yes, I think that she would be more comfortable in her own home and I could spend more time with her. What do you think?_

_S: That's a great idea. Can I call Granny tonight?_

_M: Of course, you don't have to ask. Just don't tell her about the apartment, it's a surprise._

Spencer and his team were in the conference room, talking about a new case when his phone rang. Confused he put his phone out of his pocket and saw that the caller ID is unknown, he accepted the call and he stood up and excuses himself out of the room.

A few minutes later he came back, pale like he saw a ghost, and rushed to Hotch.

"Sorry, I have to take a few days off. I have to fly to New York now. I know it's short-term."

"Woah, come down kid," Derek went behind him to put a hand on his shoulder. Spencer flinched at the touch and eying Hotch with a pleading gaze.

"What was the call about?"

"The last family member of my closest friend died and I like to be there for them."

"It's M?", JJ asked with a sympathetic look. 

"Who else?", Spencer mumbled.

Hotch's facial expression was sympathetic. "Of course. You can use the private jet with us since our new case is in New Jersey, we can drop you out in New York City?"

Spencer nodded briefly, fighting to keep the tears to him. 

Morgan who had his hand on Spencer's shoulder the whole time gave him a gentle squeeze. 

"Come on I drive you home to pack a bag,"

"No, I have a bag already here. For the case, you know. I really want to get there as soon as possible."

Spencer finds Mike sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at a panda picture on the wall across from him, in a new apartment. 

Mike is lost in his thoughts, his ability to compartmentalize is gone and he looks to be on the verge of a panic attack.

"Hey, you are here with me?", Spencer says as he gently approached him and sits next to him, letting a gap between them. His body is turned to Mike.

Mike staring at him with sadness in his eyes that makes Spencer’s heartache, he looks heartbroken.

"Why are you here?”, Mike leans to him and puts his face in the crook of Spencer’s neck as he waits for an answer.

Spencer places a soft kiss on Mike's head. “I’m here because the nursing home called me and because you’re my friend and I care about you."

Mike turns his head back to look at Spencer, his blue eyes worried and glistening with unshed tears. “Don’t leave me, too”, the man whispers pleading, his tone begging, like a prayer to make sure Spencer would stay. 

“I won’t leave, Mike. Not unless you want me to. I promise”, Spencer says, gently caressing Mike’s cheek. That seemed to ease at least some of Mike’s worry and soothe his abandonment issues that had flared up. But it doesn't soothe the grief away.

He leans again into Spencer, burying his head in his neck again, a sob caught in his chest.

Something like fury swirls deep within Spencer's chest and wraps his arms around Mike’s shoulders, holding him close as the weight of the family Mike lost pours out of him in grief.

"The moment she died my heart was torn in two, one side fled with heartache, the other died with her," Mike mutters against Spencer's skin.

"The past days I often lie awake at night, when the world is fast asleep, and take a walk down memory lane, with tears upon my cheeks. Remembering her is easy, I do it every day, but missing her is a heartache that never goes away," Mike sobs, Spencer almost doesn't understand him as stroking his back up and down with one hand. At least Mike taught him how to comfort people, Spencer thinks with a heavy sigh. 

"You hold her tightly within your heart and there she will remain. Until the joyous day arrives, that you will meet again," Spencer blinks, eyes wet. He lets out a shuddering exhale, trying not to cry too.

They stay like that until Mike breathes normal and doesn't cry anymore.

"When is the funeral?", Spencer asks and wants to slap himself. What great timing he has.

"In two days," Mike mumbles, voice horse from crying.

"I'll be there. You know I really like her."

"She liked you too," he whispers. 

With some difficulty, Spencer manages to coax him onto the new bed in his bedroom.

Normally Mike would start to make a joke or quote something and Spencer bites his lips as he thinks what to do. 

“It doesn't get any easier," his eyes were red and there were steady trails of tears leading down the corner of his eyes.   
  
Spencer hesitates. “No...but people in your life give you other things to be happy for. That doesn't mean you need to forget them, but it means you don't have to suffer forever.” 

Spencer runs his fingers down mike's arm, finding his hand half-hidden in the sheet. He tugs, get his fingers wrapped around Mike's wrist.

"If you want me to, I'll stay with you all night," he whispers as Mike stretches out on the bed beside Spencer, pulling the green blanket above both.

"Now I think it's time for your weekend. How do you feel visiting DC and Las Vegas?", Spencer says in the morning. He'd keep his promise, spending the whole night with Mike who slept three hours after he woke up from a nightmare. Like Mike did on the weekend, Spencer held him close and let him cry until he fell asleep again.

"As long we'd don't wake up married," answers a sleepy voice with sarcasm cleary to hear.

"I won't let you wash your grief away with alcohol it never helps."

"Did you just quote me?!", Mike asks in disbelief, his eyes are red and puffy. From Spencer's side of the bed, he just grins at Mike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the good or bad thing, the story isn't finished. If you are interested to read more. And only if.  
> I had (still have) so many ideas but I think sometimes it's better to simmer them.  
> Just write to me if you want a second chapter or the sequel in a new story because I plan a plot twist and then it would be a different story.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad you make it here. I still have so many ideas for them. So if you want I could publish a sequel. You are welcome to write your ideas and options. Without feedback, I can't improve.
> 
> Dialogue from the Movie Hangover:  
> Why can't we remember ANYTHING that happened last night?
> 
> S: That's one of the side-effects of Roofies. Memory loss.
> 
> M: You are literally too stupid to insult.
> 
> S: Thank you. 


End file.
